


To Dull The Ache

by TheTrollOfTheBridge



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Roronoa Zoro, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caring Roronoa Zoro, Character Study, Chronic Pain, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Roronoa Zoro, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Introspection, POV Roronoa Zoro, Protective Roronoa Zoro, Roronoa Zoro Feels Guilty, Roronoa Zoro Needs a Hug, Roronoa Zoro-centric, Self-Destruction, Unreliable Narrator, i do not have chronic pain, i put that boy in so much pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 08:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30002349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTrollOfTheBridge/pseuds/TheTrollOfTheBridge
Summary: When his body started trembling and aching from the pain of so many injuries, Zoro picked up a bottle for another reason than the taste and the pleasant burn. He never went back, enjoying the comfort of a few painless hours it gave him.
Relationships: Brook & Roronoa Zoro, Dracule Mihawk & Perona, Dracule Mihawk & Roronoa Zoro, Franky & Roronoa Zoro, Monkey D. Luffy & Roronoa Zoro, Nami & Roronoa Zoro, Perona & Roronoa Zoro, Roronoa Zoro & Tony Tony Chopper, Roronoa Zoro & Usopp, Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	To Dull The Ache

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags, I do not have chronic pains, I did research but it isn't perfect. Nonetheless, I hope you can enjoy the read !

He took another bottle, and raised it to his lips, the burn of alcohol sliding down his throat and numbing his body. He could see Chopper eyeing him worriedly, the little doctor having noticed that he drank more and more often since they got back together a few weeks ago.

The small reindeer would not say anything though. He would keep an eye on the swordsman but if it did not take a turn for the worse, he would keep his observations to himself. And even if he decided the situation needed him to step in, he would do it privately, speaking to him without involving the others. He was nice like that.

But Zoro knew his limits. He had always been very aware of them, knowing they could lead to his death if he were to forget them.

He did not want his reflexes to be dulled, only his nerves. It started after around a year of training. Of course, it happened before, but not as bad or has often. He had been getting hurt more often the longer they sailed the Grand Line.

Most of his body was covered in tiny, unnoticeable scars since Thriller Bark, and most of his bones had been broken at least once. Humidity made it worse and the first time there had been a storm while he was in Mihawk’s castle, the pain had forced him to stay in bed for the day.

He had gotten better since then and except during big storms he could just go about his day while ignoring the dull ache in his bones. Though when he was not focused on it, he could still feel his body trembling minutely. Mihawk warned him that if he kept getting so hurt, he probably would not live to his forties and not even reach 30 and still be able to fight.

Once he mastered Haki and could drink again, he noticed the ache got duller if he drank. Each time his teacher saw him with a bottle, he got that knowing look in his eyes, not judging but warning him. He did not need this warning. He spent his teens hanging out in seedy bars. He knew the dangers of losing oneself in alcohol. He would be careful, not drinking enough to dull his mind and his reflexes but just enough to take the edge of the pain.

But if Mihawk understood and was not that worried, or did not care enough to get worried, his crewmates would definitely care. But he made sure never to drink enough to get them worried. He would not do that to them, not when it was just a luxury for him. He could live with the ache; it was just more comfortable to have the alcohol numb him.

All of them noticed he drank more than he used to, but they did not say anything. All of them had to find a coping mechanism during these two years they were forced apart. If his own was alcohol they would just make sure he did not get dependant on it. But it had never been his coping mechanism.

Ironically, it would have been healthier, and he was aware of it. Instead, he threw himself in his training, getting even more hurt every day, leading to more pain and thus more alcohol. But the pain of training and the exhaustion it brought let him sleep each night without the images of his dead crew dancing under his closed eyelids.

At least he did not drown himself in sake to forget the nightmares and simply went to train even more. A few times, Mihawk put a stop to his self-destructive ways, saying that if he would not rest for a few days, he would stop training him altogether.

The older man also made him stop drinking a few days a week, to keep any dependence at bay. He liked to think it worked but he knew already that he was crankier when he was sober. He told himself it was because of the pain and not the lack of alcohol in his bloodstream, but well… he could not be certain.

He did not dare stop drinking while on the Sunny, worried the ache in his bone would come back with a vengeance and it would be too obvious. He would not worry his crew. He was their first mate and they relied on him to be strong and not waver. He could still hear Usopp’s screams when he fell against Kuma on Sabaody.

He would not let them see his weakness again. Except that time on the archipelago, he never allowed his wounds to stop him from fighting and protecting his crew.

At least he would never forget his fault, the guilt gnawing at him made sure of it, as well as the chronic pains that came from these same wounds that caused his failure.

And he still had nightmares about this failure, hearing everyone scream his name as he was sent away, unable to keep them safe. Arriving on Kuraigana, not knowing if they were hurt, or even dead. That worry did not abate until he saw them all on the deck of the Thousand Sunny a few weeks ago, after two years of loneliness. Yes, he had been with two other people, but they were not his crew, they were not his family.

And so, the memories still haunted him, still kept him awake at night, turning more twisted in the silent darkness of the ship. Their screams turning into accusations from their broken, bleeding bodies. He always woke up from those bad dreams with a scream stuck in his throat, never passing the barrier of his lips, keeping his friends unaware.

The days following those night terrors, he would always be in more pain than usual but never allow himself to drink, thankful for the reminder of his failure. The pain made sure he would never forget, never allow himself to lower his guard, never allow himself to be so injured that he would be useless ever again.

He was also more anxious on those days, walking all over the ship to keep an eye on the crew, making sure they were still here, still alive. They all noticed and di their best to spend as much time on the deck together as possible. They all knew the feeling, experiencing it themselves sometimes.

But spending time with them, being around his crew, around his family, everyday, dulled the ache of his mind if not the one plaguing his body. He slept better with each night passing and if the guilt was still here, it was not a stabbing pain in his heart anymore.


End file.
